


Lore, Actually

by Little_Miss_Rainstorm



Category: Lore Olympus (Webcomic)
Genre: Inspired by Love Actually, Love Actually References
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:43:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28507650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Miss_Rainstorm/pseuds/Little_Miss_Rainstorm
Summary: It's no longer Christmas but that's not gonna stop me. I decided to do big multi-chapter fanfic for my babes Swoonie, Lizzie, and Whisky, inspired by the universe and crossovers of Love, Actually. See if you can guess which part of the story is for who!It's Christmas in London and interconnected stories are unfolding across the city. A tutor and a businessman, an aquarium owner and his best marine biologist, a young princess and a hamster-obsessed boy, a tech nerd finding himself, against all odds, in a thruple with a hot delivery boy and a model, a cheating husband and a wife with a love of Joni Mitchell, and so so so much more.Will be published in several parts over the next day or so.
Relationships: Amphitrite/Poseidon (Lore Olympus), Aphrodite/Ares (Lore Olympus), Daphne/Hermes/Thanatos (Lore Olympus), Eros/Psyche (Lore Olympus), Hades/Persephone (Lore Olympus), Hera/Zeus (Lore Olympus)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 57





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [INeedMoreHadesBeforeISwoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/INeedMoreHadesBeforeISwoon/gifts), [AnArdentChangeling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnArdentChangeling/gifts), [whiskywrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskywrites/gifts).



> I hope my darlings don't mind sharing a fic. You will ALL see your desires represented as the story progresses! 
> 
> Some brief notes on the representation of sex work in this fic: 
> 
> Sex work is work. I have the utmost respect for sex workers of every variety, and I have tried to have my story represent my views, admiration, and respect. That said, I have no idea what I'm talking about, and I am just trying to write a silly holiday story about AU Human Greek Gods so please forgive any inaccuracies you notice.

It was official, Hades mused as he shook the snow out of his damp, white-blonde hair, he  _ hated  _ Christmas. He hated the noise and the garish lights, hated the constant stream of mind-numbing society parties, hated the gooey romance on every television channel, movie screen and street corner in the city. He hated navigating the London Christmas shopping traffic to make it to his brother’s obscene house in Chelsea for his sister-in-law’s week-long holiday party (which he also hated). 

She’d called him four times today, Hera, not to mention the five voicemails she’d left on his cell and the three messages she had left with his assistant (the less he thought about  _ Minthe  _ the better). Hera knew exactly how to knock down the determination he cultivated each year, the determination that he would  _ not  _ be attending this week-long ridiculousness. Most other people, he’d told her, take one day - two tops - to celebrate Christmas. 

“ _ Aidoneus,” His domineering sister-in-law had said to him, down the phone, in the tone of voice that made him certain she was flipping her golden hair over her shoulder in that way of hers,  _ “ _ When have I  _ ever  _ been mistaken for  _ most other people?” 

Then she’d played the truly diabolical card of putting Hebe on the phone, knowing full well that he would not be able to deny the child anything. So, he’d decided to make Hera suffer, just a little, bringing along every last one of his faithful hounds along to ruin her white furnishings. He may or may not have bought a few pairs of Hera’s particular brand of expensive shoes just to train Cordon Bleu to chew them on sight. 

He steeled himself, adjusting his leather driving gloves and the ice blue tie tied punishingly tight around his throat, checking his reflection in the frosted glass at the front door. His diamond cufflinks sparkled discreetly on his wrists, and he brushed away the light dusting of snow that dotted the shoulders of his heavy, black great-coat. He looked suitable, he supposed. Smart, severe, businesslike, unruffled, just the way he liked it. Little did he know how short-lived his composure would be. 

No use stalling any further, he reasoned, listening to the distant strains of a popular Christmas song and the laughter of giddy children and inebriated adults buzzing faintly through the door. He rapped on the glass, half-hoping no one would even hear him. 

“I got it!” he heard an unfamiliar sing-song voice approaching the door, and the door swung open. He was suddenly enveloped in the warm, yellow glow of the entryway, and the smell of cinnamon, clove, and cranberries. “Oh, hello!” 

His eyes dropped down to the face of his welcomer, and his breath caught in his throat. She was beautiful - huge, dark eyes, warm, smooth skin the colour of cocoa, and a great deal of glossy black curls framing her heart-shaped face, each coil tipped with bright pink. She was also  _ tiny _ , her head tipped back almost comically to look up at him. She was wearing some of the most unflattering clothes he had ever seen - a pair of ill-fitting jeans, hemmed to fit her short legs, scuffed pink converses and a huge Christmas sweater. It was dark blue, covered in a hideous pattern of snowflakes and gingerbread men, and it swamped her. And yet… she was the most divine creature he had ever seen. 

His breath caught in his throat, his eyes reluctant to look away from her full, plump lips, her dark doe eyes, her… flashing reindeer antlers bouncing around on tightly coiled springs? 

The breath that had caught in his throat suddenly released in a hearty chuckle. He could not help the hysterical laughter that had him almost doubled over at the glowing headdress on this gorgeous woman’s head, at the way white-hot attraction and hilarity tangled in his belly. 

The lovely girl blushed hard, her eyes narrowing in annoyance and embarrassment. 

Hades realised his fatal error a moment too late, so unaccustomed behaving in any way unpredictably to himself, and he coughed, straightening up, and prepared to apologise to the goddess that he had unwittingly offended. Before he could, Hera was there, all flawless golden hair and a tight, white dress, edged with white fox fur that he hoped was faux but, knowing Hera, he was sure wasn’t. 

“Hades! Come in, come in, get out of the cold,” Hera trilled, grabbing him by the elbow, “I see you’ve met Hebe’s new tutor. Persephone, be a darling and get someone to fetch Hades’s bags!” 

Hades glanced longingly over his shoulder at the beautiful girl he had not successfully said one word to.  _ Persephone.  _ As Hera dragged him away, he spotted, with a stomach full of roiling regret, her tiny hand steal up to her gorgeous raven curls and snatch the silly headband off.  __

***

“I can’t believe Hades didn’t invite me to the Christmas party,” Minthe growled through her bluetooth headset, lolling lazily in her office chair. She checked her reflection in her hand mirror, adjusting a stray strand of her sleek, black bob and refreshing her blood-red lipstick, the exact shade of her tight dress and perilously high heels. 

“Maybe because you said “no” everytime he asked you for five years?” Thetis’s dull, bored voice replied. “ _ Or  _ maybe because you broke up  _ three weeks ago? _ ” 

“Boo, you whore,” Minthe hissed, the very remotest edge of humour in her voice, the tenuous link to  _ a joke  _ that had preserved their friendship over the years. “Aren’t you annoyed that your sugar daddy is locked up in a week of family festivities?” 

“Please,” Thetis scoffed, “he is every bit as obsessed with me as ever. The ring light he bought me has really elevated my nudes to new heights… and my OnlyFins is exploding,” 

Minthe rolled her eyes, a mixture of jealousy and exasperation roiling in her belly. Thetis was one of a parade, whereas Minthe knew she was the only recent notch on Hades’s bedpost, despite the fact that they were not exclusive. Thetis was the mistress of a married man, forever in the shadows, behind a locked door, in the hotel room on his “company retreat”, whereas Minthe’s meal ticket was single, unattached, utterly and exclusively devoted to her… despite their lack of exclusivity. Minthe’s generous allowance paid for more than half of the house in St John’s Wood she and Thetis shared, Minthe being the one-and-only mistress of a tech mogul, and Thetis one of the many revolving mistresses of the MP for Uxbridge. 

So  _ why  _ did Minthe feel like she was losing? 

“Ugh, hellbitch incoming,” Minthe straightened up, noticing the trademark pantsuit of her  _ other  _ boss. The one she had less sway with, on account of the fact that, despite giving off  _ the most  _ lesbian vibes of anyone Minthe had ever met, the ice bitch had never shown an ounce of interest in Minthe’s many assets. “Call you back later, bitch. Kisses,” 

She clicked the headset off hastily and shuffled the documents on her desk, affecting her best customer service voice. “Good afternoon, PomTech, Hades’s office, how may I-” 

“Cut the shit, Minthe,” Hecate said coldly, utterly unaffected by her stellar phone performance. “Make sure to remember to order my lunch today, and if I get a cold panini from Pret again I will not hesitate to fire you. We have clients from the New York office visiting for the holiday season so make sure they have tickets to the pantomimes, London Eye, the ice rink outside the Natural History Museum - you know, the regular shit,” 

“Right, yes, the regular shit,” Minthe agreed hastily, trying to discreetly minimise her online shopping pages. 

“And make sure everything is in place for the office party tomorrow night,” Hecate threw over her shoulder as she stalked away, “And I want all the reconciled receipts for the company credit card. All of them.” 

“Of course!” Minthe called sweetly, before muttering under her breath, “bitch,” 

“What was that?” Hecate popped her head back around the corner. 

“Sandwich! I, uh, said sandwich. For your lunch. Not from Pret though,” She laughed uneasily, flicking the santa bobblehead on her desk in annoyance. 

**From:** _minthe_potami@PomTech.co.uk_

**To:** _thanatos_nikos@PomTech.co.uk_

**Subject:** I’M BORED

____________________________

Meet me on the 3rd floor in 15 mins 😈

________________________________________________________________________

  
  


***

Aphrodite accepted the bottle of Diet Coke from her assistant gratefully, taking a long sip from the silver can. She  _ hated  _ giving blow jobs when her mouth was dry and lord knows, in this industry, she would be sucking dick for a long time today. She  _ loved  _ sucking cock, don’t get it twisted, but when they had to get fifteen different angles for the fans it became a goddamn extreme sport. 

“Ampelus!” The impetuous princess of pornography cried, looking around for the mousy-haired girl she’d hired a few weeks before. The girl scrambled towards her, a pair of enormous glasses on her nose, magnifying her terrified hazel eyes. “Tell the director I’m not wearing the ears. I’ll wear everything else, but the ears weren’t in the contract,” 

“Yes, ma’am,” The girl scuttled away, tugging at her enormous, burgundy cardigan away from her body. 

“Ah yes,” Aphrodite rolled her eyes, muttering to herself “God forbid anyone is able to tell you have a figure under there,”

Without an audience, though, Aphrodite found it much harder to disguise her nerves. Ridiculous, really. She was Aphrodite Amore - a name she had trademarked the day she started doing porn - people got nervous around  _ her,  _ she didn’t get nervous. 

And yet, she thought, checking her outfit in the mirror, I  _ am  _ nervous. She was poured into a tiny, clingy minidress, in a harlequin pattern of green and red diamonds. Her little hat, red with a green scalloped brim, was peaked with a silly little golden bell. Her green stiletto over-knee boots, patent leather and clinging to her shapely calves, curled up into a tight elvish spiral at the toe. It was what her eldest son, Eros, had called “extra”. She thought it was appropriate. She prioritised production value almost as highly as she prioritiesed girth. 

She  _ was  _ nervous. If she was the Queen of Porn, then Ares Nailer was the King. They had never worked together, only been aware of each other from a distance. The upper echelons of the porn scene were a small, exclusive group, so they’d followed each other on social media for ages. He was always sure to post a string of suggestive emojis under all of her thirst traps. She’d admired him, his work and his incredible physique, and his many, many, gym and axe-throwing and beer drinking and dumb prank videos.

And then her agent had called her, asking her if she was interested in being in a Christmas video -  _ Santa Claus is Cumming to Town -  _ with none other than Ares Nailer. He’d requested her specifically, the agent had said, and refused to appear in the video unless she was his co-star. This, from an incredibly attractive man, her only true peer in her field, was incredibly flattering and...incredibly confusing. Nervewracking. 

“Ma’am?” Ampelus reappeared, clutching a second Diet Coke in her hands. “They’re ready for you!” 

Aphrodite shook out her long, sleek, thick mahogany hair, pouring down her back in waves, and squared her shoulders, trying to affect her habitual confidence, the confidence that had abandoned her. She accepted the can gratefully, though; her mouth was suddenly VERY dry.

***

“Cream cheese bagel with smoked salmon,” the handsome delivery boy winked at Than, “Poppyseed bagel, gherkin on the side, and a black coffee. Hot,” 

Than gulped, trying hard to say something without choking on his words. The delivery boy, whose name he had not been brave enough to ask in the three months he had been delivering sandwiches to the office by day and running through Than’s dreams by night. “T-t-thanks,” he stammered, taking the warm cup from him and shivering as their fingers brushed. 

He was tall, almost as tall as Than himself, and lean, his thin, red delivery t-shirt, thermal long-sleeved shirt, and leggings clinging to his taut muscle of his abdomen, his thighs… his sinfully peachy ass. His mass of curly, copper hair bounced as he talked, his ice-blue eyes glimmering with humour. His lips were like a bright red smudge across his handsome, chiselled face, like someone had carelessly drawn their plumpness into life with a hasty flick of a blood-red sharpie, which summed up the aura he gave off; frantic, thrumming with life and energy, careless and half-finished and beautiful. 

Than, a quiet programmer, always wearing a crisp suit, his white-blonde hair scraped back into an unforgiving bun at the crown of his head, gave off the complete opposite vibe. He was slow, nervous, thoughtful to the point that it became a fatal flaw. He was constantly hesitant, shuffling through life like an uncertain geriatric, fumbling his way through a dark room. He’d tried to become more adventurous, thinking the scarlet witch who guarded the boss’s office might be a breath of fresh air, but her studied seduction paled hilariously in comparison to the way this unpracticed young delivery boy, cheeks and nose ruddy from the cold, hair windswept, made his heart race. 

“What’s your name?” He blurted out. Classic computer nerd, he internally groaned, excellent with hard drives, terrible with… hard guys.  _ Gah.  _ He was having some kind of mental breakdown, he was certain. “I, uh, sorry. I just… I didn’t catch it the first time and then, you know, as time went on, it became… uh, harder to, you know, ask, without being… awkward,”

The copper-haired adonis stretched that gorgeous mouth into a grin, his eyes crinkling around the edges. “Wouldn’t want to be awkward,” he crossed his arms, biceps bulging, and arched a sardonic eyebrow. Than shriveled, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m kidding!” the pretty delivery boy laughed, “I’m Hermes. Nice to meet you,” He extended his hand. 

His beautiful, strong, calloused hand. Than was immediately paralysed by a million terrifying, beautiful, cock-hardening imaginings; that hand wrapped around his cock, that hand pressing his hips to a bed, tangling in his white-blonde hair, sucking on those long, strong fingers.  _ Get a fucking grip you absolute pillock.  _ “T-T-Thanatos, but everyone calls me Than,” he eased his fingers into Hermes’s warm, firm grip, trying and failing to suppress his shudder as their skin connected. 

“Hmmm,” Hermes placed his other hand on top of Than’s, rubbing Than’s knuckles with his thumb and looking, absurdly meaningfully, into Than’s eyes. “I’m not sure I like calling you what everyone else calls you. Aren’t I… special?” 

“Y-y-yes,” Than stammered, staring at their joined hands. “You… m-most certainly are,” 

“What’s your last name?” Hermes looked at him with hooded eyes, an uncharacteristically slow, lazy smile spilling like molasses across his mouth. 

“A-Angelus,” Than stammered, glancing around the office. Why did everyone choose today to go out for lunch? Not that he was complaining. Or was he? He  _ was  _ terrified, and other people would’ve provided a buffer, at least. Did he want a buffer? His cock and heart screamed  _ no, _ his brain mumbled something incoherent and legged it.  _ You order a sandwich every day just so you can see him, but now you’re freaking out because he’s here - what’s wrong with you?  _

“Okay, Angel,” Hermes stepped a tiny bit closer, “Fitting. Given how you look,” His voice was low, gravelly, seductive, and subtle as a sledge-hammer. The retreating room on Than’s personal isle of denial was rapidly running out. 

_ Ding.  _

His computer lit up with an email alert and he shot Hermes an apologetic look, scrambling away to the desktop as he clenched and unclenched his tingling hand.  _ Minthe.  _

“You’re my last order of the lunch rush, ya know?” Hermes ran his fingers along the divider of Than’s cubicle. 

**From:** _minthe_potami@PomTech.co.uk_

**To:** _thanatos_nikos@PomTech.co.uk_

**Subject:** I’M BORED

____________________________

Meet me on the 3rd floor in 15 mins 😈

“I could, you know, maybe stay. Keep you company over lunch in this big, empty office?” Hermes ducked his head, trying to meet Than’s eye. 

“Uh, I…” Than stammered, avoiding his gaze. He had a choice: the easy, unsatisfying past or the terrifying, nerve-destroying potential of something new and real and intense, something he wanted with the marrow of his bones, something that could hurt him, badly. “Uh, sorry, I, uh, actually have to run to a meeting. Thanks for the sandwich!” 

He raced out of the office without a backward glance, heart thudding in his chest. 

_ I am a coward.  _

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have given up on trying to predict how long this will be. The characters have minds of their own. I will try and make it not too MARATHON as I doubt anyone wants that, but pls enjoy this exceptionally long chapter. 
> 
> Whisky, Lizzie, and Swoonie - you have all my love and devotion. I hope you enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor CW for Thanatos discussing his bisexuality - Minthe is mildly biphobic in passing, and Thanatos is a little uncomfortable with his sexuality. It's not for any homophobic or biphobic reason, it's just because he's lonely and repressed and now has to deal with crushes on multiple people of multiple genders. 
> 
> I'm bisexual myself so I've peppered in a few bi jokes I thought were funny. Please know I am only making light fun of the demographic because I am a part of it.

“Hades,” Hecate wedged the phone between her shoulder and her chin, “You are on your  _ one and only  _ holiday of the year. Can you truly not help yourself?  _ Why  _ are you calling me?”

“Lovely to speak to you too, Hecate,” Hades raked a hand through his white-blonde hair. He was at that very moment kissing every last shred of his depleted self-respect goodbye; here he was, a wealthy, respected businessman in his forties, hiding in a coat cupboard from the indefatigable attentions of his youngest family members. He could hear Hebe’s shrieks of laughter outside the door and pressed his foot against it, attempting futilely to shake the glitter from his hair. “Glad to see the Christmas spirit has well and truly found you,” 

“What. Do. You. Want?” Hecate growled. 

“I need a favour, nothing to do with work, I promise,” 

“I’m listening,” Hecate muttered, and Hades could hear the eye roll in her voice.

“I need flowers,” 

“Hades,” Hecate’s voice was ice, “This is what you have an assistant for, remember,” 

“Please. Do you think I could ask Minthe to help me order flowers for another woman?” 

“Ah-hah, so it is another woman,” 

“Hecate!” 

“I am your oldest and dearest friend, and your business partner, not an errand boy,” Hecate drummed her fingers on the desk, “If I’m going to do this, I need the details,” 

“I’m being an idiot,” 

“Yes, darling, that’s a given.” 

“You,” He seethed, “Are the worst. Fine, look, it’s… it’s nothing,” Hades rubbed his hand over his face, “There’s this woman. Hebe’s tutor. God knows how old she is. Too young for me, certainly. I’m just… I offended her. I didn’t mean to, but I did, and now I need… I need to make it up to her. I can’t explain it. We’ve… we’ve not said two words to each other, but I need her to not despise me. I’ve had too much of that lately,” 

“Hades…” 

“So I need flowers. Big ones. Expensive ones,” Hades thunked his head lightly against the inner wall of the coat cupboard. “Please, Hecate,” 

“No,” 

“What?” 

“No,”

“Hecate, please-” 

“Listen to me, Aidoneus,” Hecate leaned forward on her desk, rapping the tabletop with her knuckles viciously, twice. “I am sick to the hind bloody teeth of you throwing money at your problems. Thank God you got rich young, because it saved you from ever having to actually reckon with your feelings and have a conversation. I have enabled it for long  _ enough _ . Is it so fucking hard for you to apologise? To have a human conversation?”

Hades sat silently in his step-sister’s coat cupboard, one knee drawn against his chest, fighting the sudden, ridiculous tears that threatened to spring forth. 

“Aidoneus?” 

“Yes?” 

“You know I love you, right?” 

“Yes, Hecate. You know I love you too, even when you are a stone-cold bitch,” 

He could hear the grin in her voice, “Go. Say you’re sorry.  _ Then  _ we can talk about flowers, okay?” 

***

Aphrodite Amore was more impossibly hot in person than Ares could have imagined. She practically melted the screen in every scene he had seen her in - and he had seen pretty much all of them, free, paid, livestreamed, solo cams - but seeing her in person, nonchalantly sipping a Diet Coke while she chatted to the director, was enough to completely melt his brain. 

She was wearing this tiny, slutty Chritmas elf costume, a tiny mini-dress that clung to her every curve, the deep v of her dress barely able to contain her ample breasts. His ridiculous santa costume, the heavy red coat split open to reveal his sandy brown, muscular chest, the belt slung low on his hips, a ridiculous santa hat perched eskew on his head and a stiff, white synthetic beard hanging around his neck. 

Suddenly she was sauntering towards him, and he choked on his own breath and tried to surreptitiously adjust his hardening cock, barely concealed in his loose, prop trousers, merely intended to hint at his intended role and then be cast aside for the more athletic elements of his performance.

“Hey there,” She said, and her voice was liquid sex. He would listen to her reading the phone book or a goddamn take-away menu. “Mind if I sit?” She batted those ridiculous eyelashes, tilting her chin back so he could watch her throat as she swallowed. 

“Sure,” He settled back in his chair, legs spread, trying not to be too transparent as his breath quickened with anticipation. Sure, he was  _ meant  _ to be hard but he didn’t have to shove it in her face. Yet. 

She did not sit on the bed or in any of the chairs around the room. She settled her delightful, round arse on the length of his thigh, wiggling briefly to situate herself, flicking her dark hair over her shoulder. She lost her balance briefly - whether intentionally or not, he couldn’t be sure - and his large, strong forearm came up around her waist, holding her steady. 

“Hi,” She whispered, her breath fanning warm across his lips. 

“Hi,” He tilted his mouth closer to her, his eyes flicking down to her lips and back up to her gorgeous, blue-violet eyes. She smelled divine, and her body felt incredible wedged against his. He caught sight of the camera crew out of the corner of his eye and felt a shiver of delight shoot up his spine. He was here, being  _ paid  _ to fuck this incredible creature. 

“God, I love my life,” He whispered, half-involuntarily. 

She looked him up and down appreciatively, “Hmm, me too, particularly right now,” She studied his chiselled face for a moment, dark eyes and dark brows and bronze skin, a sharp jaw, an aquiline nose, and a wicked grin. She leaned forward, impulsively, and kissed him, hard, her devilish tongue snaking its way into his mouth before he knew what was happening. He groaned and tightened his arm around her waist and drew her closer against his chest, groaning into her mouth and tightening a fist into her hair. 

They parted, panting hard, rumpled and breathless. 

“Hey, lovebirds,” Dion, the director, called from behind the camera, “Keep some of the fucking for when the cameras are rolling, huh?” 

“Just getting to know each other,” Aphrodite murmured, raking her fingers through Ares’s dark hair. Her nails were rough against his scalp and he let out a hiss of pleasure.  _ Oh, this is going to be fun.  _

***

“Poseidon, you have to get down here,” Hades was still in the hallway cupboard. He was considering sending out change of address cards. He looked at the fur coats and umbrellas and various other random items crammed into his new home;  _ I think I shall be happy here. It’s about the size of the average flat in London; more spacious even.  _

“Will you grow up?” Poseidon chuckled, “I’ll be over tonight. Can’t manage one afternoon with our family alone?” 

“Afternoon? It’s barely 11. I’ve been here less than 24 hours and Hera is already on my case about everything in my life. Zeus is being a dick. The children… well, you know I love them, but they have so much energy. And Hebe’s tutor…” 

“What? Don’t tell me Hera’s boinking him?” 

“She, you sexist. Women can be teachers too, you know,” 

“Soooooorry,” Poseidon laughed, swiping his staff card against the reader and swinging open the glass staff entrance to the aquarium. “So, tell me Zeus isn’t boinking her?” 

Hades’s stomach twisted at the thought. His slimy brother worming his way into her life, into her bed, that lovely girl with those bright, intelligent eyes that seemed to see right through him. Hades had seen it happen hundreds of times, some booksmart, young, beautiful girl with her future ahead of her, blown off course by the gale force of Zeus’s ego. Hell, he’d watched it happen to Hera, when they were in their final year of University and she was just a fresher, watched her give up her degree a year before graduation because he got her pregnant. 

“Posie, I have to go,” 

And then his elder brother had hung up on him. Poseidon shrugged and tucked his phone into his coat pocket, bundling the whole thing into his locker. He pulled on his aquarium branded waterproof coat and his wellington boots, signing in on the sheet hung on the door. 

“Hey, are these lockers assigned?” A sweet, low voice spoke at his shoulder. He shrieked involuntarily and turned, slamming into the lockers. “Oh, shit,”

“S-sorry, love, you just, uh, well, you scared me. Made me jump,” Poseidon chuckled uneasily, shaking his sandy blonde hair out of his eyes. He looked like some strange combination of a Brixton Hipster and a Californian surfer dude, piercings through every inch of his ear, wavy, blonde hair, a necklace made of shells and shark’s teeth and a t-shirt with an obscure reference to a microbrewery in Shoreditch. 

She was… he blinked at her, his eyes coming into focus for the first time. She was beautiful. Thick, glossy black hair laying in a thick braid over her shoulder; huge, fathomless, dark brown eyes; flawless, dark skin, the colour of mahogany. The large, colourful tortoiseshell glasses perched on her face , a marbled blend of blue and purple and green, slid down her nose every few minutes in a very endearing way, and the coloured epoxy caught the light and cast pale, rainbow refractions across her cheekbones. She was, in short, breathtaking. 

“Um, hello?” She quirked an eyebrow, crossing her arms. He realised that he hadn’t spoken in many minutes. 

“Ah, yes, sorry. Words,” Poseidon grinned at her, perturbed that she seemed utterly unamused by his boyish charm, “Lockers are assigned. What job are you doing here? Maybe I can help?” He leaned against the cool metal and gave her what he hoped was a roguish grin. 

She huffed a little sigh, and rolled her eyes, trying her best not to be charmed by him. “I’m Amphitrite Kaur, the Marine Biology Fellow from the Zoology Department of University College London,” She said in a clipped voice, as if reading her credentials from the back of her own business card. “I’m starting in January but the department said I could come and get the lay of the land while it’s quiet and then hit the ground running in the new year,” 

“Oh!” Poseidon said, eyes suddenly eager as they always were when someone wanted to discuss anything marine. He’d thought this lovely girl, young and beautiful as she was, was a new shop assistant for the gift shop, and he mentally scolded himself for looking down both on this gorgeous scientist and upon the retail staff who worked tirelessly selling starfish plushies and dolphin sippy cups to the rabid masses of London.  _ Who are you, Zeus?  _ He mentally chastised himself. “Working on the zebrafish tissue regeneration project?” She fixed him with a suspicious squint, “Someone, uh, mentioned it to me. Don’t understand it much myself,” 

“Well, yeah, I am looking into the ways zebrafish regrow body parts and the possible human applications for that kind of tissue regeneration,” She adjusted her glasses, blinking up at him like an impossibly endearing young owl. He felt his heart clench at her beautiful earnestness, mentally deciding to cancel all he had planned for the day in order to ensure she was as thoroughly enamoured with him as he was with her by the end of her first shift. “But… maybe I shouldn’t be telling you this, but it would be nice to get a long-term employee’s perspective,” She muttered conspiratorially, moving closer to him. She smelled heavenly, clean and saline and invigorating, like the breeze off a tropical ocean. 

“I love secrets, and I’ve been here  _ forever, _ ” He crossed his arms, looking down at the diminutive scientist with a warm, roguish grin. 

She appraised him for a moment, then nodded minutely, “I don’t know why, but I believe you,” She murmured, glancing around the locker room, “I’m also lowkey looking into the ethics of this place. So few “animal sanctuaries”,” She threw up sardonic air quotes, “especially ones in a tourist-heavy capital like this one, actually have any interest in protecting the marine life they put on display. Plus, the guy who owns this place, Mr Vasilias, he’s got basically no internet presence, but I  _ was _ able to find out that his brother is this, like, ridiculously corrupt Tory minister who tried to cover up a whole bunch of environmental fuck ups,” 

“No way,” Poseidon muttered, clenching his fist reflexively. He remembered all too well his brother’s cover-up of the oil spill in the Medditeranean, his back alley fracking contracts, the factories he owned in the poorest parts of the world, turning a blind eye to the carbon emissions and human rights abuses all at once. Poseidon had, in short, beaten the tar out of his youngest brother when he found out, and Hades wasn’t far behind. It was one of the biggest fights the Vasilias brothers had ever had, far exceeding the bloody scraps their heinous father would goad them into as teenagers, and Poseidon had barely spoken to him since. 

The taciturn eldest brother had quietly bought the factories out from under their idiotic youngest sibling, increasing worker pay, investing in green energy and local infrastructure, and weeding out child labour in the plants, setting up an onsite school for the children of workers and paying the families for both their children’s attendance and their parent’s work. Poseidon had made it clear to his brother that he would not hesitate to out him as the amoral political snake he was if he didn’t make amends. The sizeable donations to various environmental charities, plus a huge silent investment in this marine sanctuary, and it’s sister site in Hull, had gone some way to repair the damage. This was the first year he was attending some of their Christmas festivities since the blow-up. 

“Listen,” Poseidon smiled softly down at her, “I have a pretty free day today - Christmas lull and everything - so why don’t I show you around? I’ll even get you lunch, on Mr Vasilias, how does that sound?” 

She eyed him sceptically. “I don’t want you to get into trouble,” 

He smirked, “I won’t, don’t worry. Vasilias is a dick anyway. Plus, it’ll basically be a business lunch because I want to hear everything about your zebrafish project. And your corporate espionage,” Her eyes crinkled with her involuntary grin and she shrugged, pushing her glasses up on her nose. 

“Why the hell not?” 

“My favourite thing to hear from a lovely woman,” Poseidon swung the locker beside his open, discreetly peeling off the label on the door that said  _ Thetis _ . She rolled her eyes at his sudden gallantry and started to stuff her possessions into the tiny metal box. 

He took her distraction as an opportunity to unclip his ID badge from the extendable clip at his waist, hidden at this moment by his waterproof coat, and shove it deep in the interior pockets of his jacket. 

The staff ID badge that read  _ DR. Poseidon Vasilias, CEO, Atlantis Aquarium and Nature Reserve.  _

***

Thanatos sighed, draining the last sip of coffee from the disposable  _ Pret a Manger  _ cup and tossing it in the nearby bin. Why, one might ask, observing him, was this wiry young man with intelligent eyes and a sharply cut suit and grey, winter pea-coat, staring down the entrance to the local flower shop like it was his personal Waterloo? 

He so very rarely ventured outside of his usual work-home-work route that any strange place was stress-inducing. But a strange place where he had to  _ speak  _ to other human beings? That was a bridge too far. He ordered his shopping online and purchased his occasional take-away from websites and apps, favouring the “leave at the door” option and watching, carefully, through the peephole of his flat’s front door, to see when the delivery driver would leave. The only salesperson he ever spoke to was Hermes, and look how that turned out, he thought, adjusting the half-erection that reared up at the mere thought of the scruffy delivery boy. 

Why the boss couldn’t order his own flowers, Thanatos didn’t know. Why the task had been delegated through Hecate down to him, as he dashed off to meet Minthe in the supply cupboard, he again could not fathom. The domineering assistant had not been best pleased at his text blowing her off, but a part of him was secretly pleased at the excuse. She was increasingly exhausting to appease, especially since her break-up with Hades. 

“Well,” He huffed to himself, his breath a puff of white condensation in the London winter chill, “Let’s get this over with,” 

He pushed open the door, cursing the kitsch little bell that jangled above him, announcing his presence. The smell of flowers in the small shop was almost overwhelming, the tangling of every heady fragrance making him a little dizzy. He stood awkwardly, pale and monochrome among the riotous colour, surrounded by flowers of every breed and hue. 

“Just a minute!” a sweet, feminine voice called from behind the counter. “Whew, sorry about that,” the voice trilled again, skipping into the room with a box under her arm. Inside, he could see white freesias bobbing drunkenly, their stems sunk into florist’s foam. 

He looked from the swaying flowers to her face and caught his breath. Why, oh, why was it that every goddamn sales person he encountered had to be the most enchanting creature he’d ever met? It really wasn’t fair. It was hard enough talking to people with chronic social anxiety without them being stupidly gorgeous. 

And she was, undoubtedly, stupidly gorgeous. She had long, caramel coloured hair tied in a high ponytail at the top of her head and spilling, curly and full, down her back. Her ears were small and endearingly pointed, and her nose crunched up when she smiled, reminding him of a mischievous little pixie. Her eyes were large and green, her skin was pale brown and idiotically perfect - she looked like she’d been airbrushed, for god’s sake - and her lips… God, her lips. They were pillowy and pouty and soft, quirked up at the edges in a slightly crooked grin, their asymmetry the only flaw he could perceive and thus entirely endearing and lovely and suddenly dear to his heart. 

Many times in his life had Thanatos cursed his own bisexuality. His family had been incredibly welcoming about the news - he was probably the least queer of his siblings - and he had no friends, really, to complain about it. Minthe had made some joke about “greedy bisexuals” and how it was a moot point given he never dated anyone anyway, and he had never mentioned it again. But at this moment, still half-hard from his lunchtime run in with the intoxicating delivery boy, now fully, achingly hard as he watched the buxom shop girl bend over to adjust one of the freesias, he cursed his bisexuality more than ever. 

“Sorry for the wait!” The lovely shop girl puckered her lips in a maddening way, blowing an errant curl out of her eyes, “We’re short-staffed today. My cousin usually works with me but she just got a new job as a tutor in some fancy-af house in Chelsea or Mayfair or something, and the other shop assistant called in sick so it’s just me today. We have a wedding collection at 4pm and a funeral collection at 6, and trying not to get the orders mixed up has kept my hands full! You’d think they would be super different, being for a wedding and a funeral and all, but white flowers kinda just look like white flowers when you’re run off your feet!” 

Thanatos stared at her, not quite sure what to say. She was the very epitome of effervescence, bubbling over with words and enthusiasm. His eyes flicked down, involuntarily, to her ample chest, the deep V of her green  _ Anthopolis Flowers  _ polo shirt barely able to contain her breasts. He realised a second too late that she had caught him looking and cleared his throat, attempting to pass it off as reading her name on the nametag pinned, he imagined, just above her right nipple. 

“D-Daphne, right?” He asked. 

“Oh!” She laughed, the look of irritation melting off of her face, “Yeah, that’s me, Daphne. How can I help you today?” 

“F-flowers,” He said, intelligently. She chuckled softly at him and he blushed, clearing his throat. “My boss wants flowers for this girl. I don’t know much about her but apparently he said something stupid and wants to make it right,” 

“Nothing like flowers to say, “sorry, I’m an idiot,”, right?” Daphne grinned and, to his extreme surprise, Thanatos found himself grinning back. 

“Exactly. I’ll, uh, take one bunch of the most expensive flowers you have, just as long as they communicate idiocy, please,” 

To his surprise, the divine young woman laughed. It was not the musical laugh one might expect from a creature as delicate and enchanting as her; it was throaty and rough and sultry and, dammit, if he’d thought he’d reached the ceiling of his arousal he was, alas, wrong. 

“Hmm, so how about…” Daphne’s face scrunched up thoughtfully and he couldn’t believe how sincerely adorable her look of concentration was. “Apology flowers… orchids, for sincerity, to start with. Hydrangeas and purple hyacinth say, like, “please forgive me”,” She walked around the store, Thanatos following, puppy-like, in her wake, plucking or snipping off buds with the tiny shears hanging from her apron. “Rue, for regret, and… how about some geraniums, for idiocy?” 

She stopped suddenly, her arms full of flowers, and turned on her heel. He was following obediently behind her so her sudden stop brought them nose-to-nose, his hands coming up, automatically, to her shoulders to steady her. 

“Whoops!” She laughed nervously, but the laugh slowly faded as she looked up into his face and saw something that hitched her breath. 

“I…” Thanatos said, intelligently, totally unused to gorgeous women that smelled divine and had, he noticed with a small smile, a smattering of yellow-orange pollen in her eyebrow, looking up at him with dilated pupils and soft, pink, slightly parted lips. 

His whole face, she noted with a sweet pang, was transformed by his small, nervous smile. 

“Hey, Daph,” The bell above the door was sent ringing violently by an exuberant newcomer and both of them looked up, sharply, at the intruder. “Dion wants to go for a drink after work-”

The man who had breezed in stopped short, taking in the tall, sharp-suited programmer currently holding Daphne tenderly by the tops of her arms. “Hey Thanatos,” Hermes grinned, “Twice in one day, what an event!” His eyes twinkled with mirth, “Daph, this is the sandwich guy,” 

If Thanatos had not been languishing in the mortification of being called “the sandwich guy” by the hottest man he’d ever met, he might have noticed the hot, sparkling look that passed between Hermes and Daphne. 

“Uh, hi,” Thanatos released Daphne, taking a full step backwards. “Just, uh, getting some flowers. For my boss. They’re not…” He scrambled to clarify, heaving a deep, long-suffering breath,  _ “from  _ me,” 

“Hope you don’t mind the interruption,” Hermes grinned, advancing on the beautiful girl before him. Her arms were full of flowers but she leaned towards him, a smile curving her lips as she accepted his firm, hungry, totally inappropriate-for-company kiss. Thanatos couldn’t help but shiver, watching these two insanely attractive creatures devour each other’s mouths. “Forgot my key in your purse this morning and it seemed like a perfect excuse to steal a kiss and tell you Dion wants to go for a drink tonight,” 

“You have your kiss, now get your keys and scram,” She chuckled, wriggling out of his arms. He slipped behind the counter and into the back with easy familiarity, and she sauntered around the counter to gather the flowers into a bouquet and wrap them in paper. “Where does Dion want to go?” 

Thanatos shifted uncomfortably. In his estimation, he was totally inconsequential to what was unfolding - a couple, engrossed in each other, chatting about the banal domesticities that made him ache inside in unfamiliar ways. Little did he know, however, that this was their attempt to fold him into their conversation. Thanatos, without his knowledge, had been quite the topic of conversation between these two. 

Not knowing any of this, Thanatos watched Daphne’s lovely hands wrap his bouquet and felt himself deflate. Stupid, he reprimanded himself, to have had any hopes in the first place. An ironic and particularly bisexual kind of pain to find out the guy he liked was taken by the girl he fancied. His mind floated off to familiar, pitiful, and banal thoughts of his plans for the evening; he could practically see his microwave meal for one turning in a slow dismal circle behind the glass. 

“Got em!” Hermes was triumphant when he emerged from the back room. 

“Not so fast!” Daphne stopped him before he hurtled off, “Save me booking a delivery driver?” She extended Thanatos’s bouquet to him with flirtatious, plaintive eyes. 

“No problem, love,” Hermes rolled his eyes indulgently, “I’m sure it’s on my way,” 

“Your total is just here if you are ready to pay,” Daphne held out the card reader to him and he tapped the company card, his sense of desolation surprising him as it settled in his belly. “Hey Hermes,” She continued in a voice that her boyfriend, attuned to her as he was, familiar with her tones and scheming ways as he had become over the course of their relationship, “Why don’tcha give Thanatos here your phone number? That way he can just text you the address directly, cut out the middleman?” 

She was twirling a lock of her thick, glossy hair around her index finger intentionally. Hermes let a slow smile spread across his lips. 

“Great idea, Daph,” He smiled wolfishly, handing Than his phone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few notes: 
> 
> \- I've included a few brit inside jokes/references - if you don't get any of my inane English prattle please just let me know and I will happily explain
> 
> \- I'm modelling Zeus on Boris Johnson and I cannot apologise enough for that but it seemed an apt comparison
> 
> \- Vasilius means, according to Google Translate, "King" in Greek. I thought it was a cool Human AU name for the kings. 
> 
> \- A note on the race/ethnicity of my characters, to avoid confusion - the London I know is super diverse and, though the original Love Actually does not represent this, I wanted to make sure this story did. Persephone and Daphne are cousins and are from a mixed Caribbean and white family; Ares is Latinx; Hecate is of Japanese heritage but born and raised in the UK; and Amphitrite is South Asian and Sikh - her surname is a common Sikh name meaning "princess". Please tell me if you think I could improve the way I am attempting to infuse my story with the diversity I see in real life; I grew up in a multicultural area but I am white as mayonnaise and I am definitely prone to mistakes and eager and willing to learn.


End file.
